The Code for Sex
by AmyCoolz
Summary: "We need a code." For sex. Clint/Coulson, PG-13 for mild themes.


So. _So._ Let me tell you about the_ FEELS_ I have for this pairing. idek, guys, and it came out of _nowhere_. But I have no regrets, because these boys are beautiful and belong together.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them. If I did, the movie would have to be rated X. And Phil would still be alive. (oops, spoilers? If you haven't seen the movie by now, what are you doing with your life?)

* * *

"We need a code."

Phil looked up from the paperwork he was currently working on, having heard the sniper come in but wanted to see how long the other man could tolerate being ignored. He lasted less than 20 seconds. "What do you mean? A code for what?"

Clint rolled his eyes like it was obvious and hopped up onto the corner of the desk, dangling his legs over the edge childishly. "For when I want to have sex with you but don't want everyone else to know." The silent "_duh_" was apparent in his tone.

Being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil most certainly did not splutter. But it was a near thing. "Barton, we're already risking being terminated just meeting up outside of work, and now you want to throw in risking getting caught sleeping together _at_ work? What's wrong with you?"

"Lots of things, but you already knew that, didn't you, sir?" His smirk was a mile wide as he leaned closer to Phil; his eyes flicked to the I.D. badge that was pinned to the other agent's suit jacket. _Coulson, Philip J._ "What does the 'J' stand for, hmm?"

"None of your business. Now leave."

"I bet it's something like Jason. Or James." Clint touched a finger to his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Or Jamar."

"Clint,_ please!_"

The archer could tell Phil was getting very frustrated very quickly. "Okay, okay, geez. If I promise to be quiet, can I stay?"

Phil weighed his options: send Clint away and work in peace or allow him to stay, knowing full well that he would not live up to his promise and keep talking anyway. "You can stay," he said finally. "But only if you shut up."

"I can do that." Clint grinned and hopped down from the desk, roaming over to the small loveseat in the corner of the room and lying down, legs crossed at the ankles. He lasted all of half a minute before muttering, "Maybe your middle name is Joseph? That sounds more… you."

The man sighed and put his pen down. "What were you hoping to gain by preventing me from completing my paperwork on time?"

Clint rolled over onto his stomach so that his chin was on the armrest, gazing up at Phil. "I could tell you, but that would defeat the purpose." He smirked slowly. "Besides, you'll just get annoyed enough that you'll give up on your stupid paperwork altogether."

"Stupid paperwork?" Phil echoed, scoff apparent in his voice. "I'll have you know, _Barton_, that this paperwork is essential for you getting paid after each mission you complete."

"Wait, really?"

"Well," Phil coughed, a light flush crawling across his cheeks, "not _this_ paperwork specifically."

"So you have time to spare." It wasn't a question. "Excellent."

"No, I didn't say tha—"

"Stop talking and get over here, P.J."

"—t and stop—Wait, _P.J._?"

There was a glint in Clint's eyes that Phil didn't necessarily like. "I promise to only call you that during sex. Or you know what? That could be our _code_."

"Our code?" Phil was still trying to wrap his brain around the nickname, never mind that it could eventually lead to mean that Clint was horny as hell and trying to get into his pants. "_P.J._?"

By now, Clint had gotten off of the couch and walked over to the desk, swiveling Phil's chair so the man had to raise his head to meet the archer's eyes. "Think about it, nobody would even know what we're talking about. They'd think it was just another stupid nickname I gave you. What they won't know is that I'm propositioning you, right here in the office."

"N—We're not allowed to have sex in the office." The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears, but Phil had no idea what else he could say.

Clint smiled, knowing he had won, and stepped forward to straddle his handler's hips on the ergonomic office chair, draping his arms over the man's shoulders. "Who said anything about having sex _in_ the office?" He waggled his eyebrows; Phil groaned. "Hey, P.J., wanna get outta here?"

Phil's mouth was dry, but he still managed to croak out, "God, yes," before being dragged back to Clint's apartment and getting thoroughly ravaged.


End file.
